


The Death Of Dreams

by magic_at_mungos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_at_mungos/pseuds/magic_at_mungos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken things can be mended but the cracks will always remain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death Of Dreams

_August 1996_  
Remus knew now that when things broke, they can sometimes be mended but the cracks will always be there. He picked up the photo frame with the large crack down the centre and leant against the wall, studying the photo that was undamaged. It had been taken during the Easter holidays before their NEWTs and thinking back, Remus thought it had been one of the last times they had been truly happy without anything hanging over them. James and Sirius were play fighting in the pale sunshine with Peter lying on the grass with his sketchbook. Remus was off to one side, looking lost in a daydream. Now, he couldn't remember what he was dreaming about.

That night, he tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep in the muggy weather. Remus finally got up and opened the window – propping himself up on the sill and taking a deep breath of the night air. It was only less oppressive than the air inside the flat and he closed his eyes. Memories flickered across the back of his eyes like a home film and he was transported back to

_Easter 1977._  
They were in the small garden behind Sirius’s house. It had been the first time that they had all been together in his new house as he had bought it just before Christmas and only James could visit during the holidays. Sirius had been as pleased as punch with the slightly shabby house that was in Notting Hill and he was so close to Portobello market he could spit on it. Uncle Alphard had taken the photo. He had been on his way through to _somewhere_ and Remus had a funny feeling that Uncle Alphard had a finger in a great number of pies and there weren't all within the spirit of the law.

Peter had been sketching non-stop over that weekend. He had never been so far into the Muggle world and he had fallen in love with sights of sounds of this immigrant area. He had been awestruck by the noisy women and families coming out of church that morning. The women with their colourful clothes and accented English and the children sounding like Londoners with a tinge of the accent hiding in their voices. Those pictures had been thumb tacked to the wall in the dormitory after that weekend.

James had just been James. Older and slightly more serious than he had been the previous year and keeping his mooning over Lily to a minimum. She was part of the reason why Sirius and Remus had been pushed together a bit that year. James never seemed to have a minute to spare between Head Boy duties and Lily. Peter knew what he wanted to do and longed to be accepted into the School of Magical Fine Art the following year. Most of his spare time was spending working on his portfolio.

_Summer term 1977_  
There was just more time spent together – the in between time between dinner and nearly bedtime or during meetings or Sunday evenings when people were trying to finish last minute homework. It was around this time that Remus realised that Sirius smiling at him made his stomach flutter. Of course he wouldn't say anything. It would be weird and Sirius was straight. He had a very definite type – slight and dark and as smart as hell. The girls certainly didn't make it difficult for him – coy smiles and attempts to get his attention.

Lily found it hysterical. She would often laugh when Sirius looked slightly flustered surrounded by girls. She would elbow Remus as they watched him flush slightly and turn compliments nicely, trying to make his escape and mutter “Of course, blushing like that doesn't help. Even I’d go for him and I know him.” Remus would mumble something that sounded like an agreement and hurriedly change the subject.

_Christmas 1977_  
Sirius had come to stay with Remus that Christmas. Mainly because he couldn't stand being by himself over the holiday and James was stuck with visiting a matriarchal aunt who often lectured on the youth of today not being like they used to.

Nana Beth had whisked them both off to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and Sirius had been awed by the sense of magic and ceremony within the church. During the service, he had quietly slipped his hand into Remus’s and didn’t let go.

_Summer 1978_  
Remus had been spending more time at Sirius’s flat that summer. It was easier to get shift work, if he worked in the Muggle world. Bar work, box lifting – anything that paid and didn't pay too much attention to his background. It was easy to avoid becoming friends with people, as they never stayed longer than a few weeks. In between work and sleep, he had spent on the front doorstep smoking roll ups and drinking beer with Sirius leaning against his legs. They quietly got to know the neighbours who pretended not to notice their dynamic. Hand holding led to kissing and kissing led to a lot more. But it was never a _relationship_. They weren't a couple – just passing the time until something or someone better came along.

It was easier to ignore what was changing between them than the growing darkness in the Wizarding World. Every time they opened the paper, someone else had disappeared. Lily turned up on the doorstep one evening, red eyed and shaking. James had been on a training mission and her best friend, Perha, had disappeared on the way home from St Mungos.

_New Year 1979_  
Peter had shown up late. He was pale and drawn and seemed jumpy – that’s the thing that Remus remembered most clearly. No one asked why. They just drank harder and made louder, cruder jokes to cover up the nervousness that they all felt. James was on the way to qualifying as an Auror – they were dropping like flies in stealth attacks. The Muggle papers blamed IRA revenge attacks whilst the Prophet blamed _You Know Who_. No one knew who was next and people began to develop this almost suicidal sense of joie de vivre. Don’t worry about drinking too much or smoking too much dope or sleeping with someone completely inappropriate because who knew if you were going to be here this time tomorrow or next week.

People kept one good set of dress robes or suit for funerals and you kept seeing the same faces at churches or services for people who had far too young. Kids who should be out finding out who they were – not fighting in a war that had been started by some nutter.

Remus couldn't tell Sirius what he was thinking. He wasn't even sure he knew what he was thinking. Instead, he just kissed Sirius harder and they fucked each other harder and the bruises faded. Eventually.

_Last dog days of 1979_  
The weather wasn't doing anyone any good. It was too hot to do anything fast and the oppressive air caused tempers to fray. It didn't cause _fights_ , as such. But it caused them both to snap over little things like the other person using the last of the milk or not taking the rubbish out. It was just things that just built up and eventually caused them to have a full on row every so often. It went the same way as it had always done by Remus making a snotty comment and Sirius overreacting and both of them saying things they didn't really mean. Neither of them really apologised for the fights. They just made up in bed. Or on the sofa or on the kitchen table. The making up never fixed the problems – it only papered over the cracks.

_Spring 1980_  
Living in the same place drove Remus crazy. It was all right at school – Hogwarts was big enough to get away from each other. They had space to be themselves. But outside of school, it felt claustrophobic. There was always this sense of guilt when Remus felt himself having fun. Why should he be able to have fun when this sword of Damascus hanging over the heads of the Wizarding world?

_Christmas 1980 – New Year 1981_  
Sirius had been grumpy that Christmas. He would snap at you as soon as you would look at him funny and disappeared for days on end. The only time flashes of the boy appeared through the cracks was when he was around Harry. It was then you saw the old Sirius – not the one who had faint lines around his eyes and a hardened mouth.

But then Remus didn’t see him as often as he used to. He had to travel further and further to find other werewolves and now only seemed to be at the flat to sleep between trips. Peter was at the flat more often then Remus was. Remus would come back in the middle of the night or the early hours and see a new picture stuck on the fridge or just a funny note left in the tea caddy.

New Year’s Eve was tense. The Potters was having a last hurrah before they went into hiding. The last hurrah felt more like a wake with the tension leaking out of every pore. People came and went. None of them stayed for long – no one liked celebrating when there seemed like there was nothing to celebrate.

In the cold light of day, the bedraggled decorations looked pathetic. Remus walked round the silent flat and ended up in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Sirius sleep. Sirius looked softer when he slept. Remus didn't know how long he stood there, when he saw Sirius stir. He gave him a wan smile. “Did you want a cup of tea?”

That sleepy smile and nod made it seem worth fighting on in the dark.

_Halloween, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day 1981 _  
Those three days was a blur but Remus knew that all the plates he was desperately trying to keep spinning came crashing around his ears. The first news had started trickling in during the small hours of November 1st. The first Remus heard of it was an almost hysterical Floo call from Professor McGonagall. He had managed to get as much details as he could from her before she disappeared.__

__By the time the sun had risen, Remus was at snapping point and was planning to throw something at the next owl that came through the window. He put a spell against all incoming post and calls and he stormed out of the house. Remus walked the streets, chain smoking until he found himself outside Nana Beth’s church. He ran his hands through his hair as he stood outside the door. Finally, he stepped in and breathed in the sense of peace. Remus slid into a pew near the back and rested his head on his hands. He didn't know what he was praying for – all this to be a horrible dream or things not to get worse. Whatever it was – it wasn't enough._ _

__Things got worse. The Prophet took a great deal of pleasure in dragging Sirius’s name through the mud and proclaiming to the world that blood will out. Remus didn't know whether to believe them or cling to the memories that he had of Sirius. The memories he had of all of them – the boys who they once were._ _

___August 1996_  
Remus was jolted back to the present by a crack of thunder and he jumped. He blinked a couple of times as he tried to work out where he was. He could smell the thunderstorm coming and he rubbed his hand against his eyes. Remus shook his head, trying to get rid of the bad thoughts. It didn't work. It never did. The only thing that worked was drinking himself into a stupor._ _

__He opened the cupboard, picking a bottle of wine that Sirius had left. Remus poured some into an off white mug and silently toasted his memories. He had to continue walking though life and cherish the times he had those to walk alongside him. Even if it was only for a brief moment in time. As he drank, he heard a dog howl. Maybe he wasn't alone just yet._ _


End file.
